


kept me on your long line

by oflights



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, M/M, once again i suck at tagging so FILTH THIS IS FILTH BE WARNED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/pseuds/oflights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What I do with you?” Geno asks, and Sidney <i>wants </i>so much, but—</p><p>“Whatever you want to do,” Sidney says thickly, his head spinning with how true he feels that. </p><p>(Set after the 11/30/13 Panthers game, aka Geno's 4 point night.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	kept me on your long line

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but this is really inspired by, um, God, [this picture](https://31.media.tumblr.com/be8115028e9e636aec8b071cf2cee224/tumblr_mxacgfDCja1s0rjebo1_500.png), and dedicated to Evgeni Malkin's ~swagger, and what a cocky shameless dick he is, and jfc I can't believe I wrote this, don't even look at me. As always, I have no idea what to tag in my porn, so know that going in, and I actually tweetficced certain things that didn't make it in here with my terrible timeline, sorry about that and also you're welcome.
> 
> This is a series because I'm the worst, because that picture is from the Isles game and not the Panthers game and so. Yeah. Title is from Volcano Choir, Bridget was the unfortunate soul that looked this over, goodnight and good luck.

There is something in the pressure of Geno’s hand on the back of Sidney’s neck when he follows him off the plane that night, heavy but subtle, that clues Sidney in pretty quickly. It’s late by the time they’re back in Pittsburgh, well into the middle of the night, but Sidney had napped on the plane and Geno is still wired, exhilarated, and they have the whole day off tomorrow.

“Want me to come over?” Sidney asks him quietly as they head for their cars, not hiding but not _announcing_ , either. He keeps his voice light and not at all suggestive, but Geno’s eyes are as heavy as his hand, and they are walking almost side by side, Geno a half stride ahead. He turns his head to look at Sidney carefully and nods.

“Yes. You want?” Geno makes their arms brush, and Sidney suppresses a shudder. Geno isn’t asking if he wants to just come over; the suggestion in _his_ voice is apparent, obvious.

“Yeah.”

Geno ducks his head and grins, and Sidney couldn’t see it if he weren’t looking for it. It’s a tight press of his lips, satisfied and knowing, and Sidney thinks of Geno’s last goal and feels his stomach twist pleasantly, a dull, warm sort of ache right in the pit. 

And in case there were any mistaking Geno’s signals, Sidney knows exactly what this night is going to be like when Geno says, “Good. I want,” and sounds absolutely shameless about it, smug. He doesn’t ask if Sidney is sure, just squeezes the back of his neck again before using the hand there to guide him towards his car.

“I’ll meet you there,” Sidney says, but Geno is getting into his car, not listening, because he already knows.

Sidney drives to Geno’s house half-hard, one hand on the steering wheel and the other rubbing his thigh, trying not to shake. 

The lights are on already when Sidney rolls up in Geno’s driveway, and Sidney takes just a second after he turns off his car to breathe out shakily. He imagines Geno’s inside, padding around in his socks with his belt unbuckled and his tie off, getting a drink. Sidney wonders what he’ll taste like, and wonders if he’ll get to kiss Geno right away and find out, and then decides to get out of the car and stop wondering. He’s excited.

Geno hums a greeting when Sidney walks in, eyes crinkling in a smile. He always looks happy to see Sidney, in any context, like he can’t turn that off even when they’re doing this, and it makes Sidney feel warm and loved and happy.

Geno’s basically how Sidney had imagined him, drinking what looks like water from a glass and lounging in the sitting room. The TV isn’t on but Geno looks relaxed and unhurried, drumming his fingers on the arm of his couch and looking Sidney up and down. His smile slowly melts into a smirk, and his eyes linger on Sidney’s socked feet before pointedly moving up and landing on his jacket, which Sidney takes off and folds carefully over the back of the nearest armchair. He doesn’t sit down, because Geno is still looking at him, and he just barely shivers when Geno makes eye contact.

“Take off everything, be good.”

Sidney’s hands move quickly in removing the rest of his clothes, starting out neat but ending up just piling everything on the same chair, his socks dropped in two balls on top. He has to fight not to hug himself, or feel weird about being totally naked in the sitting room before anything has even happened; it’s what Geno wants and that’s what this is going to be about tonight. He must look awkward, though, because Geno’s eyes soften again and he stretches his arm out over the back of the couch.

“Come here, look cold.”

Sidney folds into Geno’s side eagerly, not really cold but hungry for the touch anyway. He feels much less exposed here in the crook of Geno’s arm, his face tipped into his chest and pressed against the starchy material of his shirt. Geno’s hand first strokes up and down his side, his palm heavy and proprietary, and then snakes in to brush over the nipple he can reach, smiling into the side of Sidney’s head.

“See, cold, Sid,” Geno says, light and teasing laughter in his voice, rubbing his fingers over the hardening peak. He presses on it until Sidney’s breathing catches and he squirms a little. Then he pinches and Sidney swallows a gasp, then cups his hand over as much of Sidney’s pec as he can reach, almost protective. 

Geno smells good, and Sidney breathes him in and thinks about asking to be kissed. Instead, he asks a more basic but no less important question. “Can I talk?”

“Yes,” Geno says immediately, firmly. He knows how Sidney likes to deal in absolutes when he does this, likes clear instruction and, in the beginning, a clear plan of how things are going to go. By now they’ve done enough that Sidney can guess the plan a little, can understand what the sum of all parts is before he really knows the parts. Geno moves his hand off Sidney’s chest, up to his face, looping his arm so that he can thumb at the corner of Sidney’s mouth. When Sidney peeks up at his face, Geno’s tongue is poking out a little, his eyes sparkling. “Mouth be busy, but I gonna hear you.”

Sidney plants his face back into Geno’s chest, curling up tighter against him, arousal spiking in his gut. Geno’s hand drifts back down, and his fingers go back to playing with Sidney’s nipple, rolling it until Sidney whines softly into his shirt. “Mm,” Geno says, praising and satisfied, and Sidney squirms, his cock throbbing, plumping in his lap. 

Sometimes they do this with the TV on, Geno pretending to pay attention while he plays with whatever part of Sidney he wants to. He’s put Sidney over his lap, fingered him carefully with a Russian soap opera on and Sidney’s vision limited to an ugly patterned couch cushion, laughing at parts Sidney doesn’t understand and wouldn’t even if he could focus on anything but Geno’s fingers inside him. But right now Sidney likes the quiet; it feels more like it’s just the two of them, alone in the middle of the night in Geno’s big house, safe.

They are still unhurried, lazy, getting a head start on the day off they have tomorrow. Geno picks up his glass and takes a sip of water, then nudges Sidney until he looks up at him. “I share,” he says kindly, and Sidney drinks obediently when Geno puts the glass to his lips and tips it, keeping it there a touch longer than Sidney would. He tilts it sharply before he takes it away and when water escapes Sidney’s mouth and trickles down his chin, Geno just smiles at him.

Sidney is so _fucking_ hard now. 

“Good,” Geno says, looking down into Sidney’s lap, eyebrows going up a bit as he nods. “Good Sid. Keep for me, but take care of this first.” In his own lap, Geno cups the bulge in his pants, getting a good handful of hardening dick before smiling at Sidney. “You want?”

“Yes,” Sidney says breathlessly, and Geno’s smile grows.

“I know. But you have to ask, yes? You know I like.”

Sidney thinks about his busy mouth, knows what to ask for immediately. “Can I suck you?”

Geno leans back a little, thinking about it. “Don’t know, maybe. You really want?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sidney says, licking his lips. “Please, Geno.”

Geno unzips his pants, pulling his dick out and stroking it. It’s not fully hard yet but close, the head reddening as Geno circles his fingers around it, licks his palm and rubs over it. Sidney wants to rip his hand away, wants to take Geno in hand and lick around his fingers and make him hard and desperate fast. He wants to do it _right_. He can do it better than Geno, he knows, and the competitive drive burns in him, barely kept at bay by the more pressing drive to do what Geno wants. And Geno wants him to beg.

“Please,” Sidney says, looking up through his eyelashes, raptly watching Geno’s mouth twitch. “Please, let me suck you.”

“Don’t know,” Geno says again, his breath just a bit heavier now. “You want suck me, but you not on knees.”

There is a split second when shame and annoyance war in him—Geno didn’t _tell_ him to get on his knees, but he wants to be good for Geno even if he doesn’t have instructions yet. It’s only another second before Sidney is on his knees, sinking into the carpet and looking up at Geno with wide eyes. “Please? Now?”

“Look so good like that,” Geno tells him, jerking himself a little harder. He’s a little wet now and Sidney’s mouth waters to taste, even just to kiss the tip. 

“Geno,” Sidney whines. Geno licks his lips and nods, and Sidney feels a swoop of triumph go through his stomach. He leans up and forward, putting his hands on Geno’s knees, but falls back as soon as Geno says, “Stop,” sharply.

Cheeks burning, balls starting to ache a little, Sidney looks up at Geno helplessly, questioning. His stomach swoops again when Geno stands up slowly, still holding himself loosely, and says, “Look better like this,” and takes just a few steps around Sidney to lean against the wall.

It’s barely any distance at all, but the way Geno looks at him, eyes hot and greedy, knowing, makes it seem like an endless chasm. It’s too far for Sidney to reach with his mouth. And when Geno says, “If you want, come,” his cheeks burn hotter, his thighs tremble, but he gets his hands under him and crawls over wordlessly.

Geno groans lowly, one hand moving over his dick and the other shooting out to grip Sidney’s hair as soon as he’s in reach. He rubs Sidney’s scalp with his fingertips, pets him gently as he shifts back up onto his knees, and when Sidney can stand to meet Geno’s eyes, he looks utterly adoring, like Sidney just pulled the moon down for him. 

“Sid best,” Geno says, still petting his hair, tightening his fingers in the strands in another moment. “Want my cock most.”

“ _Please_ ,” Sidney says, and Geno nods firmly.

“I give you.”

He doesn’t give him all of it, though. Gripping Sidney’s hair tightly, he keeps his face still and mouth just barely out of reach of the tip of his cock, rocking forward once to bump at Sidney’s open, wanting lips. Sidney dares to poke his tongue out, to swipe a lick at what he can reach, but Geno says, “Close,” softly and Sidney does, swallowing another whine, squeezing his eyes shut as shame rolls through his gut.

This earns him the tip of Geno’s dick tracing the closed seam of his lips, and Sidney is trembling with the effort not to open, not to lick and suck as much as he could. There is still just the barest shine of precome and Sidney feels it smeared over his mouth, and he smells Geno more than anything, sweat and musky heat. His mouth is watering. 

“Kiss,” Geno says and it’s a relief to pucker his lips against the tip of Geno’s cock, to kiss it wetly and sloppily until Geno draws him back by his hair again. Sidney breathes out harshly through his nose, frustration flaring, his own cock bobbing by his stomach as he shakes. When he forces his eyes open, Geno is smiling down at him, smug again, but no less adoring, and that’s only a small consolation.

He’s close to outright complaining—Geno _said_ he could talk—when Geno says, “Okay,” with an indulgent sigh, and releases Sidney’s hair.

It’s not for long, just long enough for Sidney to lean in eagerly and get his mouth around Geno, sucking as much of him as he can hard and fast. He takes too much at first, gagging and leaning back reflexively, a mess trailing between his mouth and Geno’s shaft, but Geno just chuckles and takes him by the hair again, controlling the pace and depth by moving Sidney’s head. 

“Easy,” he says, but Sidney can barely listen, too engrossed in the taste and fill of Geno’s cock finally in his mouth, the heft of it on his tongue and bumping the inside of his cheek. It’s so big, and it only feels bigger when it’s splitting Sidney open from the other end, stretching him wide and hard and good. 

He sucks Geno greedily, trying to bob his head down for more and groaning when Geno doesn’t let him, tightens his fingers in Sidney’s hair until his eyes start to water. The noises he’s making are obscene, loud and wet from his mouth and little grunting pants from his nose, and the shame he perpetually feels in this position rolls in his gut and makes his cock leak. 

Geno’s hips start to move, gentle at first, then harder when Sidney takes every movement in stride, waiting for them and eager for them. He gags once more when Geno goes too fast, and Geno’s breathing stutters, his mouth falling open. Sidney looks up at him when he pulls back, and his hot eyes are fixed on Sidney, on where his mouth is making an embarrassing mess of saliva all over Geno’s dick. Neither of them should find it hot, Sidney thinks—it would make a disgusting porno, and Sidney can’t imagine he looks good like this, but Geno—Geno looks fucking good. He looks like he’s just finished a productive shift, color starting to rise in his cheeks, mouth gaping and eyes hard with satisfaction. 

Sidney moans, and Geno grips his hair and slides his cock in deeper, bumping the back of Sidney’s throat and risking more gagging. These are the panicky moments, the ones that go faster than hockey, when Sidney has to concentrate hard on breathing and getting this _right_ , because he can and because Geno deserves it.

And when he can swallow around Geno, when he can take every sharp thrust and force himself to breathe on the thrusts back, he starts to relax. His cock feels like something distant, the aching need in his balls throbbing but second to this. Sidney had followed the instructions, he had begged hard, and he got this. Geno is going to use his mouth however he wants and that’s Sidney’s reward.

It’s almost a surprise when Geno comes, and maybe for both of them, because Sidney only gets to greedily suck down one spurt before Geno is pulling his cock out and releasing the rest on Sidney’s face. He jerks himself, panting, muttering in Russian and petting Sidney’s hair again. Dimly, Sidney recognizes the pet name that Geno only ever uses for him when they’re like this, the translation of which made him blush hard and close out of Google Translate quickly, but now it settles him, joining with the taste of Geno’s on his lips and tongue to tell him how good he did.

“Mm,” Geno says, giving himself one last stroke and then holding his hand out for Sidney to eagerly clean off, tongue moving quickly and thoroughly. “Good Sid,” he sighs happily, and Sidney hums, flushing with pleasure. 

Leaning a little heavily into the wall and adopting his usual post-orgasm look of laziness, Geno carefully lifts his foot to nudge at Sidney’s cock, eliciting a pained whimper. “Thank for keep,” Geno says, his voice low and thick. “You want turn now?”

His arousal is a hot throb in his gut, but he’s hazy enough that he can only nod, catching Geno’s eyes narrowing. “I say you can talk, Sidney,” Geno tells him quietly, and Sidney has to swallow several times before he can whisper, “Please.”

“What I do with you?” Geno asks, and Sidney _wants_ so much—he wants Geno in his mouth again, or in his ass, or just keeping Sidney on his knees and letting him grind out an orgasm against his leg. He can feel Geno’s come drying on his face and wants him _everywhere_ , but there’s something he wants even more than that, even more than he wants to come, maybe.

“Whatever you want to do,” Sidney says thickly, his head spinning with how true he feels that. Geno breathes in sharply, and his eyes are heavy as they drag over Sidney’s face, searching. He’s finally at the point they always get to in this, when he needs to be sure that Sidney is sure, and Sidney lifts his chin in both defiance and promise. He’s sure.

“Okay,” Geno says thickly. It takes a second, but the sureness comes, the slow, smug slide of his smile that has Sidney panting a little, clenching his hands against his thighs. “I want—want put you on my lap. Want play with your pretty nipples again. And I want kiss you until you come.”

“Please,” Sidney says, but it comes out like a sob, and Geno moves so fast that Sidney feels startled, dizzy. He’s just as fast in scrambling onto Geno’s lap when Geno gets back on the couch, though, sitting on Geno’s thigh and curling in, bracing his hands on Geno’s shoulders and lowering his face hopefully. He only has to wait a second for Geno’s mouth to press against his, his tongue to curl into Sidney’s mouth and sweep over his teeth with practiced surety. 

Like sucking Geno, being kissed by Geno narrows down to breathing in the spaces where Geno allows him to, when his mouth shifts to bite at his lip or breathe himself. It’s everything, smothering and wonderful, and Sidney’s world feels like Geno’s mouth on his and the sting of his fingers pinching and rolling his nipples, squeezed between them and unrelenting. 

Sidney pants, his mouth a mess again, his hips working frantically but almost unconsciously—when Sidney comes it’s not from the bump of his cock against Geno’s belly but a thrust of Geno’s tongue, a cruel twist of his fingers, and the keening noise that’s poured into Geno’s mouth is coming from Sidney but sounds very far away.

He’s shivering when he’s next really aware, and Geno is trying to carefully squirm out of his shirt without making Sidney move. “Mhm,” Sidney mumbles, trying to helpfully move away, but Geno shushes him gently and pulls Sidney closer against his almost bare chest, moving again only to tug a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and wrap it around all of Sidney he can reach. Then he wraps Sidney up in his arms, too, which is better than the blanket.

Sidney doesn’t know how long they stay like that. It’s got to be long enough that Geno’s leg is falling asleep, especially when he shifts Sidney carefully so he’s sitting sideways, one of Geno’s arms slung under Sidney’s bent knees. Geno talks to him in Russian, using another pet name that Sidney knows is possessive, loving more than filthy. He strokes Sidney’s hair until Sidney can pick his head up and blink at him, can drink in Geno’s slow, warm smile and dare to touch their foreheads together, string coherent words together. 

“Can you kiss me again?”

“Of course,” Geno says softly, and the kiss he presses against Sidney’s mouth is just as soft, the kind that Sidney can sigh into happily. He breaks away to say, “Not have to ask now, scene over,” and kiss Sidney’s cheek, and Sidney sighs again, drowsy and content. 

“Okay.”

“Take you upstairs now,” Geno tells him, his thumb stroking the back of Sidney’s knee. “Clean you up, put you to bed. You so _good_.”

“Okay,” Sidney says again, but he needs another kiss before he thinks he’s ready to move from this spot. 

He takes this one without asking, finding Geno’s mouth himself and kissing him sloppily, triumphantly, because he’s earned it.


End file.
